The bamboo wall gave way with a deafening crack, like a fat guy sitting on a flimsy chair at a buffet.
Sure, the cats had home-ground advantage, numbers, and all that, but to the dogs, those numbers were just future slaves and a buffet of fresh meat. And maybe a few snacks to chase later.
Arrows rained down like it was a half-assed fireworks show, and the rare cat mages—if you could call their weak-ass spells "magic"—threw fireballs and wind blades that wouldn't even singe a dog's fur.
Rock shards? Pfft, might as well throw pebbles from a garden. These dogs? They were practically walking tanks.
Every dog had at least two cats trying to poke at them with spears, but it was like trying to stab a brick wall covered in fur. And they fought like they were late for a dinner reservation—didn't care if they bled, lost a limb, or accidentally crushed a few cat skulls along the way.
The bigger the mess, the better.